When I lie with her,
She is my medium.
Our mouths move like calligraphers,
Telling stories, in the beautiful strokes of our tongues.
My hands move over her body,
As a sculptor, trying to find the masterpiece hidden within his stone.
I lightly trace my fingers,
Making illustrations of our love on the small of her back.
With my tongue as a brush,
I paint the most intricate of impressions below her waist.
And finally, she and I are clasped together,
Engaging in a wanton dance of adoration.